Days of Our Lives
by firecracker189
Summary: Sometimes, Sam has Good Days. On Good Days, Sam can drag himself out of bed when Dean prods him, shower, and dress himself in clean clothes. On Good Days, Sam can manage a granola bar and some water before Dean bundles him out to the car and they drive. On a Good Day, Sam responds to his brother's conversation with looks and smiles.


Sometimes, Sam has Good Days. On Good Days, Sam can drag himself out of bed when Dean prods him, shower, and dress himself in clean clothes. On Good Days, Sam can manage a granola bar and some water before Dean bundles him out to the car and they drive. On a Good Day, Sam responds to his brother's conversation with looks and smiles.

Sometimes, Sam has Really Good Days. And if it's a Really Good Day, he'll go out for breakfast with Dean. On Really Good Days, Sam may even drive for a while. Really Good Days mean Sam can accompany his brother to the crime scene and ask questions. Really Good Days mean Sam can join in his brother's good natured ribbing, maybe even do some of his own. A Really Good Day means Dean gets to see his brother smile. Really Good Days are Dean's favorite, because they mean pizza and movies, just because, instead of pizza and movies because Sam is too broken to make it outside.

And sometimes, _very _occasionally, Sam will have a Really Really Good Day. These days, Dean counts as almost perfect. Because it shows who Sammy used to be, before that bastard got inside his little brother's head and started screwing around. These days mean Sam gets up before Dean, makes coffee, showers and dresses. These days mean Sam shaves before he grows too much of a neck beard. Once he's even trimmed his own hair without crying. Really Really Good Days, mean that there's still a shred of Sammy deep inside. These days give Dean hope. Hope that all is not lost for his brother, and that maybe, just maybe they can climb out of The Cage together once and for all, without risking the kid's sanity. If they happened more often, Dean would say these days were his real favorite, but he can't let himself get that much hope. So Really Good Days still top his list. But he treasures the few and far between Really Really Good Days.

Mostly, Sam has Normal Days. Normal Days consist of Dean waking his brother up after a fitful night of Hell-crazed dreams, shepherding little brother into the shower, standing outside the cracked door while he showers in case he needs him (Lucifer had a weird thing for water, okay?), and attempting to get a word out of his brother before they hit the road. Normal Days mean a lot of moving around (Sam needs constantly changing scenery or else the dreams get worse), a lot of one sided conversations (not that Dean minds, anything to keep Sammy's eyes on him and not whatever horrors his mind is projecting on him), and a lot of encouragement. Dean encourages his brother to eat, encourages his brother to put on his socks and shoes, encourages his brother to shower, shave, put on deodorant. Sometimes, Dean gets sick of encouraging. But he never stops. Never stops murmuring endless comforts and encouragements (thinly veiled commands), and never stops praising his brother's progress.

Sometimes, Dean thinks, living with his brother is more akin to parenting a toddler with abandonment issues than a fully grown man. But then he thinks of what his brother went through and chastises himself for even letting that come into his mind. Because what happened to Sam is far worse than anything a toddler with abandonment issues would ever have happen to them, although, he reasons both are horrible things.

And sometimes, Sam has Really Bad Days. These days are so bad, Dean has taken to calling Bad Days Normal Days because of how bad they are. A Normal Day would be bad for anyone else, but as usual baby brother has managed to surpass all expectations. A Really Bad Day usually goes like this: sometime during a Normal Day, could be after lunch, could be after dinner, could even wait until lights out and Sammy's sleeping, Sam would zone out. Zone out and retreat inside himself, where all the bad things lurked. Bad things that Dean wanted to vaporize with some kind of futuristic Star War-sy mind ray thing so Sam didn't have to suffer anymore. Bad things that kept him so far away, sometimes it took hours of Dean talking himself hoarse for Sam to respond. The best way, Dean had found, to coax little brother back from the edge was touch. Nothing too full of contact, just a tap on the elbow, or a rub on the back, to let him know it was different. This touch was nice, and kind, and gentle. This touch couldn't possibly be Alastair, or Lucifer or Michael. This one was distinct, full off all the love Dean could muster, all of the things that were so distinctly different from the things inside Sam's mind that it never failed to bring him out. After he coaxed Sam back into reality (and put up with the consequent mass of blubbering little bro), Dean would tuck Sam into his bed, with his blankets and his pillows (so what, the smell comforted him okay? Keep your pansy-ass comments to yourself), and wedge himself up against Sam's back, a solid and unmoving barrier of warm, human contact. He would turn on something comforting, and old western maybe, and press his hand firmly to the flat of Sam's back, between his shoulders, and rub slow and soothing circles, mumbling (if anybody ever said the word 'cooing' Dean was taking them out) reassuring nothings to him as he tried to get him to sleep. If he actually managed to sleep, (sometimes it was so bad Sam didn't sleep a wink, and as consequence Dean didn't either) Dean would card his hand through Sam's hair gently, staring sadly down at his broken brother, before flipping the TV to something else (preferably Dr Sexy, because that new intern was friggin' hot) and pushing his boots off as he settled in for a long night of Sammy Watching. He usually made if through at least half an episode before the whimpers started. After the whimpers came the thrashing, moaning, crying out. Lips moaning things that broke Dean's heart into a thousand un-reparable pieces. This was when Dean just couldn't stand it one more friggin' moment, and shook his brother until he woke up, pinning down the mass of fighting limbs before he got knocked in the face, desperately calling out to his brother that it was okay, it was gonna be fine. And when Sam finally realized where he was, Dean was there. There for his baby brother as he had been since day one. He would calmly gather his brother up, deposit him under the covers, and slide down beside him, pulling him against his chest until Sam's disgustingly snotty nose was pressing into his collarbone, and his Sasquatch hands were fisted into Dean's shirt. Dean's hands card through his brother's hair as he rubs his back and bites his tongue, tries to keep it under control as Sam relays more bit by bit, Really Bad Day by Really Bad Day of what happened to him down there. These are the days when Dean thinks his brother really does have abandonment issues, because when he tries to get up at 4AM (scarcely an hour after) to take a leak, Sam's awake again, tugging at his tee shirt and whimpering for him to 'please don't go', 'don't leave me dean'. And Dean just rubs Sammy's back and presses a kiss to the top of his ridiculously long hair and promises he won't leave, he's right there and Sammy can go back to sleep, because he won't leave as long as Sam needs him. Because he promised he'd be Stone Number One, and he meant it. Because Dean always looks out for Sammy. No matter what.


End file.
